


in a phrase

by TransNoahMaxwell



Category: Tribe Twelve
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Observer becomes less of a bag of dicks, Pining, Redemption, They are Trans and in Love., Trans Male Character, no nazis are ever allowed to be redeemed sorry habit stans, this is multichapter pls yell at me to update, we hate mary asher! she has no fucking rights!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-04-11 22:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19119001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransNoahMaxwell/pseuds/TransNoahMaxwell
Summary: ♡♡♡I’ll do anything for you, kill anyone for youSo leave yourself intact, ‘cause I will be coming backIn a phrase to cut these lips; I love you♡♡♡[Observer has been taking too much from his vessel, Kevin. He starts to develop something.]





	1. intro

To say that the entity felt nothing for one Noah Maxwell would be a lie. Observer harbored distaste for the man, maybe a fascination, akin to the way someone would be fascinated to a barking pup. He was used to negative feelings with Noah, used to the rush of glee he got when he felt Noah’s fear kick up. 

  
  


However, as of late, his vessel had been consuming more and more of him. It was getting harder and harder to distinct between delighting in Noah’s fear and delighting at his victories, internally. Observer was, as any “piner” would be, disgruntled, confused, disquieted… 

  
  


You get the picture. 

  
  
So, there he was, living up to his name, and watching Noah scribble hasty musings onto a notepad. He was grateful for Noah’s inability to look in on their plane without the camera, as he advanced slowly.   
  
  
  
Noah’s turning his head from computer to notepad, muttering and tapping the eraser of the pencil against  his teeth. Observer’s breath shakes in his throat, as he stands right behind Noah, hands poised by his head. Thoughts run through his shared mind. 

  
  


Theses hands, holding Noah’s face. These hands, wiping away his tears. These hands, feeling the crack of Noah’s spine, as he goes limp against him. They too, begin to tremble. He’s panicking, why isn’t it working? Why doesn’t striking him, unprepared, thrill him the way it used too?    
  
  
  
  
Noah is blissfully ignorant, forever a busy fool. Observer brings his shaking hands to the top of Noah’s head, and strokes, purposeful. His stupid vessel, despite not being fully conscious, picks up at this. It would make the entity laugh, if he wasn’t extremely uncomfortable.    
  
  
  
  
The man, slowly gets up from his seat, shivering. He heads to the thermostat, as Observer watches him, not daring or chancing a breath.   
  
  
  
  
“Fuckin’.. Useless piece of garbage..” Noah grumbles, as he tugs on a sweater, giving the thermostat an indignant flick. Something about the action makes Observer swallow.    
  
  
  
  
Noah sits down again, continuing his little study session long into the night, still perched on that kitchen table. When Observer finally leaves in the morning, Noah is slumped, asleep.    
  
  
  
  
He watches Noah sleep, and finds himself oddly calm. He wasn’t raring in anticipation, or feeling disgust. It was a serene moment. Before he could delay their action, his hand stretches out, and tucks a curl behind Noah’s ear, gently stroking along his cheekbone and letting his fingertips softly pet the man.    
  
  
  
  
Noah snuffles in his sleep, eyebrows creasing slightly. Observer grins, wide. With one last stroke up the nose, the way you would pet a cat, Observer is sliding off the table, and promptly porting away. 

  
  


Noah wakes up on the couch, confused, and feeling the remnants of Observer’s touch on him like lightning bug flashes.  
  
  



	2. chapter one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> observer contemplates, and mr. scars is the true 'observer' of the weirdness observer pulls.

Of course, Observer’s sudden disinterest in all things Noah didn’t fail to gain some attention from other Collective members. Long searching glances, perhaps ones of distaste were often sent his way as he simply shrugged away Noah’s ability to dodge their attacks. Mr. Scars was certainly aware of the situation, but the god who knew the most was undoubtedly Firebrand. 

 

 

It made sense for Firebrand. He was just Noah at a later time. Observer muses to himself, as he sits on the park bench, he was everything Noah had been, already is, and ever will be. Every tic and fidget, every thought and breath. It would be so easy, it probably would be easier- if Observer had fallen for Firebrand. 

 

 

It was strange for Mr. Scars. He really had no reason to know Observer, other than being the silent guardian angel of his cousin, watching over him. Mr. Scars sits at Noah’s bedside, fulfilling a promise to his cousin from many years ago. A promise to keep the monsters at bay. He had stopped Observer before, but now, let the entity through, watching with scrutiny.

 

 

Observer shakes the thoughts away, like a dog shaking off water. He stands, and shoves his hands in his pockets, strolling along the board with a practiced air of confidence. The surroundings no longer felt like a home, for the lack of a better term. He knew better than to get attached to things he liked. 

 

 

He can distantly hear the screeching, and skittering of Mongo, and the thrumming reversed music does little to help his clouded mind. Annoyed and most definitely at his wit’s end, he ports into the closest place to home he’s ever felt.

 

 

Scars stares at him, perched on the dresser. “Observer.”

 

 

“Scars.” He says with a curt nod, and gets narrowed eyes in response. Mr. Scars places a finger over his mouth and hisses. 

 

 

“Be fucking QUIET.” The distortion in his voice makes even Observer flinch slightly, more out of pity for the other man’s vocal chords than actual fear. Mr. Scars takes a minute to hack into a fist, breathing like a chainsmoker.

 

 

“Look man. I’m not here to judge but. Watching him while he sleeps is weird, and absolutely not in the job description.” Mr. Scars states, after a brief few beats of silence. Observer raises an eyebrow.

 

 

“Aren’t you also watching him?” Observer deadpans, sitting on the edge of Noah’s bed. The man himself, twitches in his sleep, and both entities pause, their gazes shifting to him. Noah then rolls over, and settles down.   

 

 

“You and I have wildly different reasons.” Mr. Scars points out, voice hoarse, “I want to keep him safe. You want to… What do you want?”

 

 

Observer ignores his question, standing to walk closer. He gently trails his knuckles along the curve of Noah’s face, cooling the sleep-heated skin and touching so gently, that something in him ached. Noah sighs in his sleep, nuzzling the pillow. “You won’t be able to keep him safe much longer.”

 

 

“..I see.” Mr. Scars is inwardly shocked by the display. He hadn’t seen Observer handle.. anything with the utmost care like he’d expressed with Noah. He takes a deep breath in, fiddling with his ponytail. “I can try. I will try.”

 

 

Observer looks at him, eyes unreadable and obscured by his glasses. He turns to leave, “I certainly hope so.”

 

 

He melts into the shadows, and disappears, leaving Scars to wonder what the fuck just happened. 

 

 

“You’ve got an admirer.” Mr. Scars croaks, to Noah. Noah snuffles in his sleep, and Scars snickers, “I feel ya.”

  
  
  


 


End file.
